


Forbidden

by Rumi1001



Series: Forbidden Allure [1]
Category: Ranma 1/2
Genre: Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, F/M, Gender Identity, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Master/Slave, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 05:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13517313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumi1001/pseuds/Rumi1001
Summary: Ranma. Naked. Kneeling. With a collar on her neck. Before a warrior. Who has just purchased her. How the heck did this happen?





	Forbidden

Don't know where this story came from; it just sort of popped into my head and demanded to be written. I'll probably be damned for it, but what the hell.

I've left it open for possible sequels if anyone is interested. Thus, comments and criticisms appreciated. Other than that, "enjoy".

Ranma 1/2 and all of its characters were created by Rumiko Takahashi. Original series copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Weekly Shonen Sunday. This story is written without permission but entirely for fun. No money was exchanged for the writing of this story.

-Rumi

*************************************************************

**Forbidden**

 

The girl who was once called Ranma Saotome knelt in a room.

The floor was of stone: flat, dark grey, and very cold. Her toes were freezing, her knees felt sore, yet she did not dare move. She had been ordered to kneel there, and she was no longer in a position to disobey. So knelt she did.

She stared at the floor, trying very hard not to shake. She still had some dignity left, she told herself. She would not break down as she faced this.

She was naked. Well, almost. There was a thin strip of leather-and-cloth that encircled her waist and sat on her hips, upon which some cheap trinkets had been embedded or hung so that they made a gentle clinking noise as she walked. Two pieces of light, flimsy material - one in the front, one in back - hung from it as well. The only other articles she wore were metal: a pair of golden earrings dangling from her lobes, a pair of bronze bands at her wrists, a similar set on her ankles, and a bronze collar... around her neck. Taken together, the articles she currently wore offered only the barest of modesty, if that.

She was Ranma Saotome, she told herself. A martial artist without equal, strong and resilient, a man among men. Ranma had defeated the strongest and most agile of fighters, brutes, and even demi-gods.

Except now she wasn’t. Not anymore, she told herself.

Her strength was gone, she told herself.

She was stuck on a strange, barbaric world, she told herself.

And she was no longer free. She had been captured. She had been chained. And now... she had been sold.

Ranma Saotome was now a slave girl, and there was nothing she could do about it.

A man stepped before her. A warrior. Tall, broad-shouldered, muscular. A few hours before, Ranma reminded herself, he had purchased her on the auction block. He was now her Master. The person who held her life in his hands. The person she was now expected to... serve.

Ranma kept her head bowed. She knew better than to look up. She kept her attention on his bare feet.

The warrior stepped slowly around her, examining her from different angles in the dim light. “Do you have a name, girl?” he asked finally.

“Yes, master.” the slave-girl said, haltingly. “I..I...I was called Ranma. Or sometimes, Ranko, but... but mostly I was called Ranma.” She gulped. “I-I-I-If those names please you, master...”

“They do not.” he said abruptly. “They are terrible names. They sound harsh and unpleasant to my ears.”

“Yes, master.”

The warrior considered. “Your name is now ‘Hanako’.” he said, finally. “A prettier name for a pretty flower such as you.”

“Yes, master.” Hanako the slave-girl said, resignedly.

A brief pause. Then... “Now,” the warrior said, “what is your name, girl?”

Hanako gulped. “I am called Hanako.” she said.

“And what are you?”

“I am a slave-girl, master.”

“And what is your purpose?

“I... I exist to serve you, master.”

“And how may you serve?”

“However master commands, I must follow. Whatever master wishes, I must obey.”

“Good.” the warrior said, pleased. “The slavers appear to have trained you well enough.”

“Yes, master. They did.”

Another moment of silence. Then, “Lift up your head, girl!” the warrior commanded.

Hanako, once called Ranma, obeyed and looked up. She felt a slight tremor echo up her spine, as she saw his tall, muscular body from that vantage point. He wore nothing but a cloth around his loins, but one hand hovered next to it. His eyes looked down upon her with obvious amusement. “And now, girl, I will give you a task.” His hand undid something at his hip, and the cloth fell to the floor. Exposing his manhood. His engorged, lengthening manhood.

“Pleasure me.” he ordered her.

Hanako knew immediately what he wanted her to do. She decided she needed to make a good impression. Her survival depended on it, she told herself. She was stuck on this world, in this body, in this ridiculous situation.

She had no other choices anymore. She had to obey.

Hanako, formerly Ranma, leaned into the man’s crotch, and kissed his penis at the base. Then she used her lips and tongue to work her way to its other end.

The organ grew stiffer, and rose. She used her hands to lift it up further, gently massaging her master’s manhood with her fingers.

Hanako opened her mouth, took in his head, and began sucking. She felt his hands place themselves on the back of her head, gripping a handful of her hair and holding her head firm. She forced herself to relax, and instead concentrated on slowly pushing her lips further down his shaft.

She felt the shiver once more, echoing up and down her spine. Damn, pesky shiver, she thought.

Hanako bobbed her head back and forth, slowly, so as to let her wet lips slide along his shaft. The action met with her master’s approval. The hands at the back of her head stiffened, holding her head firmly in place. Slowly, she moved her lips along his length.

His hands grew more firm, insistent, pushing her head forward. To accept more of him past her lips. She relaxed some more, and let herself submit to his strength. No choice now, of course. He thrust himself forward, forcing her to take more of himself inside of her. He let it slide out a little on her lips and tongue, then thrust again. And again. And again. Hanako relaxed fully now, suppressed the gag reflex, and let him take over. She was just a passenger now in her own body, while her master’s hands held her firm and his crotch forced more and more of himself past her lips. Forcing her to take more of the man’s cock. Inside her mouth. Inside her body. Forcing her to take it, take it all. Forcing her to take it... like a girl.

The thought launched another of those shivers up her spine. But this one felt... delicious.

Finally, his nutsacks hit against her chin. One last push, and her lips were at his base. She squeezed her lips, and left a rouge ring around his base, proof that she had indeed taken him all in. But they weren’t finished. He simply withdrew, then thrust again. And again, and again. This time picking up speed. Hanako began bobbing her head once more, in rhythm with his thrusts. She made her tongue and lips as wet as she could, so that his thrusts slid smoothly. She squeezed her mouth slightly, making it tighter; if anything, that made his thrusts more urgent.

Without warning, he came. A spew of gooey saltiness splashed the back of her throat. The hardness in her mouth abruptly became less so, but still kept some rigidity. Another thrust, and more of the stuff squirted into her mouth.

Hanako swallowed it without hesitation. She was a slave-girl now, she told herself. It would be expected of her to swallow her master’s cum. If she had to be a slave girl, she told herself, then she would be a good slave girl. The best she could be. Always be the best you can be, she told herself.

That thought gave her an odd bit of satisfaction.

Her Master’s manhood withdrew from her mouth, and the girl who was once Ranma felt a pang of regret as it left her. Reflexively, she stiffled the feeling. It was replaced by the knowledge that they were only getting started; no use, she tried to tell herself, dwelling on a past that could not be changed.

Once more, Hanako the slave girl bowed her head before her Master. “Did I please you, Master?” she asked. The meekness in her voice surprised even her.

“A good start.” her Master responded. “The slavers warned me you were difficult to train. But you seem to understand your place now.”

Hanako gulped. “Yes, Master. I was... difficult... but I am not so anymore.”

“Good.” the warrior said. He began to put on a robe that had been placed nearby. “I like girls who are compliant. It makes everything so much easier. So long as you do not displease me, I can be a very kind and considerate Master. But if you do displease me, I can be a cruel and terrible one as well. You had best remember that at all times, girl.”

Hanako nodded slowly. “Yes, Master. I understand.”

The warrior considered for a moment, then pointed to one corner of the room, where a variety of cushions, blankets, and furs were deposited. “Prepare the furs, girl, and await your Master’s return.” And with that command, the warrior turned about and exited the room, not even pausing long enough to hear his slave girl’s almost whispered acknowledgment.

The girl who was once Ranma looked up only after the warrior had departed. She stood, and regarded her surroundings. The room was bare, and only dimly lit. She could see some implements on the wall – ropes, chains, cuffs, pulleys, and some metallic bars – as well as a few strange pieces of wooden furniture, whose design she was unfamiliar with but for which purpose she could guess. No windows, no other way that she could see to escape.

She tried the door. Completely unsurprising, it was locked. It also looked and felt incredibly solid. Far beyond her current strength to damage.

For a moment, she stood alone in the center of the room. She contemplated the pile of bedding in the one corner, then the door at the other end of the room. If she stayed she knew what was going to happen next. If she tried to leave she would have to find a way to open the door, and even if she’d somehow succeed in that she’d still have to navigate her way out of the compound unseen. Most likely, she told herself, she would be captured and forced to endure her new Master’s punishments.

The thought made the muscles in her chest tighten. Her nipples hardened, and became like tiny pebbles.

She was stuck as a girl now, she told herself. Stuck on this crazy world. A female, on a world ruled by strong men, she reminded herself. She was a pretty, enslaved girl who had been sold to a tall, strong, muscular, man. Her options now were few. She could try to leave now with little chance of escape but a great chance of capture and punishment. Or she could wait, and hope for a better chance some other time. But if she did the latter, she would have to... endure... what was coming. At her Master’s hands. With her Master. She was a just a pretty slave girl to him, after all. Which meant that he would... use her... as any Master would a pretty slave girl.

The girl who was once Ranma began to tremble slightly.

Use her... like a man would a woman, she thought.

The trembling increased.

To be used... as a female... by a male...

Mercilessly, the girl who was once Ranma clamped down on that train of thought. Her trembling mostly subsided. Multiple breaths passed, before she regained her composure. Only then did she realize she had closed her eyes while contemplating... what she had been contemplating.

She stared at the bedding in the corner, then at the door. She considered her options. Indecisively, she turned her gaze back to the bedding, then to the door, then to the bedding again. She had to make a decision, and quickly, because she had no idea when her Master would return.

The girl who was once Ranma took a deep breath, made one last circuit of the room with her eyes, and came to a decision.

Ten minutes later, the warrior returned to the room, to find Hanako the slave girl calmly kneeling at one end. Her head was bowed, her thighs were parted at a precise 45 degree angle, and her small braceletted hands were placed palms-up just above her knees. She was silent. A few of the bundled furs had been laid out before her, all but inviting what was to come.

The warrior addressed her. “Good girl. You did not try to leave. Which is good, because you would not have gotten far if you had tried. You see, I was watching the door to see what you would do.” His voice changed slightly, a touch of satisfaction leaking into his tone. “But you stayed. You did not try to leave. Which further tells me that the slave masters did indeed train you very well.”

“Thank you, Master.” Hanako the slave girl said, her voice almost a whisper. “If it pleases Master, how may I serve you now?”

Hanako heard the gentle sound of cloth falling to the floor. She did not have to look up to know that her Master was naked once more. “Lay yourself on my furs, girl.” he commanded. “So that I may inspect my new property more fully.”

Hanako the slave girl went to the furs on her hands and knees, mostly because it seemed the easiest way to cover such a short distance. She felt her teats sway from side to side underneath her as she moved, massaged by the cool air stirred up by her motions. Her nipples began to harden again, and she felt a tightness she had never felt before begin slowly radiating outwards across the surface of her breasts. When she reached the middle of the furs, she let herself gently down so that her chest was pushed against the floor. She had wanted to shield them, to make them unavailable at that moment, for she feared what might happen if they were touched. But she was unprepared for the gentle softness they encountered, pressed by her body against the furs.

She felt and heard her Master lay next to her.

The girl who was once Ranma, but was now Hanako the slave girl, gulped. There was no turning back now, she thought. She was about to have sex with her Master. About to have sex with a guy. As a girl. She was in a bed. With a guy. About to do things in bed guys and girls do together. Only, she was there as a female, playing the female part. With a tall, hardened, strong, muscular... very masculine... male. Against her smaller, softer, very feminine... female. And... and... he was... she was... she... she... she...

She...

The girl who was once Ranma almost bolted. Suddenly her predicament didn’t matter. The odds of escape didn’t matter. It almost happened. But then she felt his rough, firm hand on the small of her back., pressing down. Her shoulders tensed, but unbidden, she could feel other parts of her body... relax. The hand stayed where it was for a moment, then began slowly caressing the area around.

“You are tense.” the warrior observed. “But you are new, so that is to be expected.” His hand began moving slowly, lightly, in an ever growing circle. Hanako, once Ranma, gritted her teeth, and instinctively fought against the sensation of his touch. But it was a losing battle, now; she could feel her muscles relaxing. Under his hand, she reminded herself. His firm hand. His firm, rough, masculine hand. Brushing against her skin. Her soft, smooth, feminine skin....

In her mind, Ranma Saotome cursed biology.

She could feel him leaning against her as he shifted position. His free hand drifted down first to her buttocks, then her thighs, caressing. She felt his head lean against her ear. “Relax.” the warrior whispered, “and this will be more pleasant for you.”

“I...I’m sorry, Master... I... I...” Hanako, once Ranma, stammered.

She felt his lips press gently against her ear. “Silence.” he ordered, in an authority far higher than the whispered volume. “And... enjoy.”

Abruptly, the warrior’s hand moved up and between her legs.

Hanako, once Ranma, gasped.

His hand was... there. At... that part... of her anatomy. HER anatomy. And he was... doing things... with his fingers. Gently but firmly, he bid her torso up slightly.

She knew that feeling, could feel what his fingers were doing. She’d done that to herself, once or twice, or more, when she was alone and the feeling had grown intolerable, the urge to relieve herself of the desire unbearable. She’d felt ashamed the first time she’d given in, and guilty every time thereafter. But she’d done it anyway, because the alternative had been worse. Unliveable. Now, it was happening again... but this time unsought for. Her arms were at her side, one immobilized by his body, the other limp and frozen in indecision. His fingers were moving, dancing, on her opening, and she had no choice but to let him. No choice.

His fingers moved gently against her sex. They rubbed and caressed, and then gently but firmly inserted themselves past her slit. She was still technically a virgin, but her martial arts activity and occasional self-probing had long since done away with the proof. His fingers reached inside, and began a slow message. She had no choice but to let him do so. No alternative. She belonged to him now, she reminded herself, and to him she was nothing but a girl. She was stuck as a female now, and he was doing things to her that males do to females. She had no choice, no alternative, but to accept it. She was stuck as a girl. In his arms. She was stuck. In bed with a man. As a girl. Doing something males do with females. Doing something... females do with males.

No choice now but to accept.

No. Choice.

A soft moan escaped her lips.

His fingers started to move with more firmness, and she suddenly realized, with more slickness. She was wet. His fingers had made her wet. His fingers caressed, danced, and probed, and their actions were making her wet. Making her body react as a girl’s would. Making her react like a girl. Her body was female, and with a man, and letting him do things to her. And her body was reacting to it, as a female would. Because it was designed to react as she was to that stimulus, designed to react like that, in a man’s presence like this. Because biology. Because... she was now female. She was a girl. She had to accept that, if she wanted to survive.

She was... a girl.

The feeling came suddenly. It seemed to explode within her, down where his fingers were, and radiate outwards. In waves. In waves that weakened her in some ways, but strengthen her in others. Pleasure. A pleasure she had felt occasionally before, in the locked furo of the Tendo household, but somehow never like this. She had come. She had orgasmed. A female orgasm, achieved at the hands of someone other than herself. Achieved at the hands of a male. It had felt smaller than those times, she thought, but somehow more potent as well.

She opened her eyes, and gulped some air. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes amid all the confused feelings and thoughts, or that she’d forgotten to breath while the orgasm radiated throughout her body. How long had it been, since she’d laid down on the furs? She couldn’t tell now.

She felt his fingers withdraw, and his body shift. “Good.” he whispered once more into her ear. “You are not frigid. You can be made to understand.” Then his free hand reached across her back, grabbed her opposite hip, and abruptly but forcefully turned her over. Hanako, once Ranma, found herself gazing upwards at the face of her Master.

The Warrior smiled. His eyes looked down upon her, approvingly, as he examined his new property. “You are quite lovely,” he pronounced. “Quite beautiful. Your shape is very attractive, your hair is soft and pleasing, your breasts are wonderfully full. It is good that the slavers found you, for I think you would have been wasted otherwise.”

Hanako, once Ranma, truly did not know how to answer that. So she said simply, “Yes, Master.”

The Warrior reached over and gave her a slap to the face, firm enough to hurt momentarily, but not enough to leave a lasting impression except on her mind. “Silence. I did not give you permission to resume speaking.”

Hanako, once Ranma, opened her mouth to acknowledge the order, but then caught herself, and simply nodded.

The Warrior’s hand drifted down to her chest. A single finger extended, and drew itself first through the valley between her breasts, then gently underneath one boob. “Your breasts are the thing I treasure the most about you. So round and firm. A woman’s breasts, on a girl’s body.” He smiled. “Some day I shall give you a babe for them to suckle. But until then, they are mine to play with.” And with that, he grabbed hold of one of her teats, leaned over, and gently kissed its nipple.

Hanako, once Ranma, found her back arching up at his touch.

His lips switched to her other nipple, and kissed it too. She felt the muscles in her chest tighten and spasm again, and her nipples contract. She could feel them seemingly draw into themselves, her areolae become taught, her nipples harden. His tongue reached out and gently poked around the tiny pebble at the top of one mound, and for a moment Hanako, once Ranma, thought he would try to drink from her. But instead he simply pressed himself against her soft pillows, burying his face in them. She felt his other arm worm itself underneath her, using the space created by her rising back. Then the arm moved up to her shoulder area.

His head moved up from her breasts, and faced her. Their eyes met one another. “The other thing I like about you.” he whispered, drawing himself closer. “Are your lips. So full and shapely, they practically beg for a kiss.’ And with that, Hanako, once Ranma, felt a man’s lips against hers.

She was surprised at how eager her lips pressed back.

A part of her was trying to tell her what was going on, that she was now in a man’s arms, that the man’s lips were against hers, and that she was starting to kiss him back. That deep down she was still a man, that she shouldn’t be doing this sort of thing with a man, and she needed to get a grip on herself and find a way out. But it was all to no avail. She’d already sucked his dick. She’d already orgasmed at his fingers ministrations. She was stuck where she was, in that body, and nothing she could do would change that. She could feel the affect he was having on her. She could feel his body; his muscular, manly, rock hard body against her. And her body was getting weaker with every touch, every feel. Because... it wanted to. It wanted to get weaker now, wanted to be malleable in his arms. Wanted to give in, wanted to let him have his way with her. Wanted her to be female to his male. Wanted her to... to submit... to him.

No. Not just wanted to. Yearned to.

Maybe this is what happens when you bury something deep inside of you, she thought. Ruthlessly bury, so far that you are terrified of ever letting it out. Because when it does finally come out, and it always will, it simply takes over. Completely.

Her arms finally came to life, and wrapped themselves around his neck. She felt his body shift, and more of his weight began to press against her. Her lips tried to bury themselves in his. She felt his tongue pass her lips, so she retaliated by doing the same with hers.

Maybe this is the only way I can accept this, she thought. When I am forced; when I no longer have a choice, when I no longer have any means to resist. When all hope has been lost of ever being able to go back, when I can no longer avoid the inevitable. Only then can I let it happen, only then can I let go. Only then can I let myself give in to this madness.

His member brushed up against her leg. She had forgotten about it, amidst the cascade of thoughts and emotions that were now threatening to overwhelm her. She felt what little strength remained give way completely, and an all-consuming need enveloped her. Her body wanted that member, in a very, very, female way.

One of his knees wedged itself between her thighs and, with minimal effort, forced them apart. She didn’t dare look in that direction. Instead, her eyes affixed to his face, as he shifted himself on top of her. She felt his weight increase against her body, his higher mass pinning her to the furs. Both of his arms now reached behind and down, grabbing a hold each one cheek of her ass. Caressing them, kneading them, squeezing them. Drawing her closer to his body. She felt his weight fully against her, now. A hard, strong, bulkier, muscular male, against her softer, petite, feminine curves. She closed her eyes as his lips dug into her neck, her fingers digging ineffectually into his back. His body pressed against hers, and she could feel her hardened nipples dig into his bare chest.

One of his hands disappeared from her buttock, only to reappear moments later. Down there. At her entrance. Back once again to where it had danced before. But this time, it made only a cursory rub, perhaps to feel how wet she was. The answer was obvious. The warrior shifted himself again, aligning his hips with hers. Hanako, once Ranma, closed her eyes as tight as she could.

A gentle push.

Hanako, once Ranma, moaned softly as he entered her.

And there it was. Inside of her. Just like biology and evolution had dictated. A man’s penis, inside of a female vagina. Inside her vagina. She was officially a woman now, she thought bizarrely. A female, being fucked by a male. Its what biology designed the female for. What she was feeling, what she was doing, was completely natural. The most natural thing in the world. Exactly what biology designed her for. Exactly what her biological purpose was for. Nothing to be ashamed of, this is what this body was suppose to be doing.

Damn you, biology. Damn you.

Oh please, Don’t stop, don’t slow down. Harder. Harder. Deeper.

I’m a man, dammit. I’m not suppose to.... suppose to... be...

She moaned. The feeling was building again. Building in a steadily increasing crescendo. Her arms wrapped themselves around his torso, and held on. Her thighs, too, squeezed against the muscled legs between them, her calves crossing behind him, in an effort to hold on and keep him inside of her. She could smell his sweat, a manly musk that was intoxicating her. She could feel his body rubbing against her, moving up and down her front with each of his thrusts, her tits pressed and squished against his wider chest, his weight and bulk pressing down against her weaker frame. But most of all, she could feel him inside of her. Hard, and long, sliding in and out. Deeper, deeper. Long, slow, but deeper with each thrust. Building up that feeling with each thrust. Building. Building.

She came. A tsunami of pleasure, first exploding, then rippling and echoing throughout her body. In the distance she could hear a deep, prolonged moan, but she did not at first realize the sound was coming from her own throat. She was too wrapped up in the moment, too adrift in the tidal wave washing over her, to fully comprehend.

Everything stopped. The thrusting, the moans, the moving bodies. Silence. It seemed like absolute silence. She could hear the blood in her head rushing. She gasped for air; she hadn’t realized until that moment that she had been holding her breath for much of the preceding time.

She felt him withdraw from her. She opened her eyes, and looked up at the man towering over her. Towering, even though he was standing on his knees.

“I think...” she said weakly, still gasping, still trying to catch up with her need for air. “I think.... that’s... enough... for...”

In the darkness, she could see the man smile, then reach down. With one fluid motion, he flipped her on her stomach once more, then lifted her ass to his hip level. She couldn’t stop him; she didn’t even have the strength to offer a token resistance. She simply went with it.

She half expected him to finger her ass hole, but instead she felt him guide his member to her pussy once more. Then he thrust himself again inside of her, his hands moving to hold both sides of her hips tightly between them. His member was still stiff and firm; it hadn’t deflated one bit. If anything, it had grown harder and fuller since her second orgasm. And with each thrust in this new position, it seemed to be growing more so. Before, his thrusts had seemed to be slower, deliberate; that more than anything had been what had driven the rise which became her second coming. But now, the speed was picking up. His thrusts were becoming larger, felt deeper, and were moving faster.

The feeling started building again. She couldn’t stop it, even if she wanted to. But now she didn’t want to. It was part of her, now. A pleasure she wanted, yearned, perhaps even craved for now. A feeling denied her other self, but available to her in this body, and this body alone. She felt him pound himself into her, her ass cheeks slapping against his hips as she took him in fully with every thrust. Faster, deeper. In this position, it felt both humiliating and demeaning, and she wanted more than anything for him to not stop. She was being taken by him, taken in a manner that left no doubt. Taken as a woman is taken by a man. She was being humbled by this man; made free, brought to heel. She could be a woman to this man, she thought. She could do it, now. Without question, without regret. Give in, and let it wash over her. Kiss him, love him, as a woman loves a man. Give him kids; yes, she could do even that, now. Become the person the whispers in her head always urged her to be...

She came. For the third and final time that evening, she came. Her arms wrapped themselves around the furs below her and held them tightly to her chest. It was more intense, more pervasive, than anything she had felt before. Her moan was almost a scream, such was the release that was now enveloping her. And behind her, his thrusts were slowing, becoming harder, more powerful. With one last push, he thrust himself as deep as he could go, then stopped and stayed.

She could feel his member inside of her spasm, then abruptly deflate, become less rigid. She knew immediately what it meant, what it signaled. He’d come, inside of her. His seed was now sprayed against her womb. Just as nature had designed, just as biology had dictated.

She had fucked a man. The one thing, since she’d received her curse, that she had always vowed would never, ever happen. Never in a million years, never as a girl. Except now it had. She had fucked. And the most frightening thing of all was... she didn’t have the strength anymore to be ashamed of it.

She collapsed into the furs. No more strength, no more thought. Just long, deep, exhausted breaths. And the smell of sweat, a muskiness that somehow only enhanced the afterglow.

The room was almost silent, with only the sound of her breathing... their breathing... reverberating against the walls. Then, Ranma could feel her partner shift behind her. “Told you you’d fucking enjoy it.” Ryoga Hibiki whispered into her ear.

Ranma didn’t turn around. She didn’t dare turn around at that moment. “If you... ever tell... Akane about this... I swear... I will... kill you.”

She felt his lips kiss the back of her neck, then felt and heard his motions as he stood. “If Akane ever found out about this, we’d both be dead.” Ryoga said, matter-of-factly. Then, without another word, he began looking for the hidden door in the back of the room that concealed the bathroom.

************************

When Ranma finally stepped out of the bathroom, washed and scrubbed clean of the musky residue their activities had produced, Ryoga was mildly surprised that she was still in girl form. She smelt faintly of floral soap, her ginger hair was once more braided into her trademark ponytail, and she had donned again her usual red shirt and black pants ensemble. But there was clearly a different air to her, a different feel to her movements. One Ryoga was sure had not been there before.

She seemed to read his thoughts and unasked question. “I thought it would be less noticeable if a guy and a girl were seen leaving rather than two guys.” she mumbled.

Ryoga put his hands up in a ‘I wasn’t going to ask.’ gesture. “Shall we go?” was the only thing he said.

Ryoga stuck his head out of the doorway first, and after determining the coast was clear, motioned for Ranma to follow. A few minutes later, they were down the stairwell and out onto the street level, where the egress exited out into a discreet, nondescript location in an alley off the local main thoroughfare. A few turns later, and they were back on the main road leading away. It was night – really, very early morning – so the number of people they encountered were few.

They passed the automated kiosk they’d come to hours before. Without thinking about it, each of them glanced at the sign above the kiosk:

**CUPID’S NEST LOVE HOTEL NERIMA**  
**—THEMED ROOMS AVAILABLE—**

The light for the Dungeon Room was not lit, indicating it had been rented. They could have stayed there a few more hours, but all things considered, they’d decided that leaving while still under the cover of darkness was probably the prudent thing to do. Without saying a word, each began trying to put as much distance between them and the scene of their... activity... as they could in as short an amount of time as was manageable.

“We should try one of the other rooms next time.” Ryoga suggested, breaking the silence sometime later.

“Not gonna be a next time.” Ranma growled. “This was a completely one-off thing.” She grumbled something unintelligible, then: “I still can’t believe you talked me into... that.”

“You enjoyed it. Admit it. You loved the play acting. I know, because I watched you do it.”

“Yeah, right.” A pause as she seemed to consider something. “In speaking of which... ‘Hanako’? Really? That’s the best name you could come up with?”

Ryoga shrugged. “First pretty name that came to mind.” he said, defensively. One corner of Ryoga’s lips curled upwards. “But you accepted it pretty well. Isn’t that right... Hanako?”

Ranma stiffened, and began moving at a quicker pace. “Don’t ever call me that again. Ever. Got that?” she said, over her shoulder. “This never happened. And if Akane ever gets wind of it, I swear, I WILL kill you.” And with those words, Ranma burst into a run, heading off in the vague direction of the Tendou dojo.

Ryoga watched as she departed from him into the early morning darkness.

“Oh, you enjoyed it, Ranma. We both know it.” he whispered. “You like being a submissive. It’s the only way you can let your girl side relax enough to enjoy it.”

Ryoga turned a corner, towards the apartment he now rented nearby. He had some money, now that he and his father had patched things up and dad was introducing him to the family business. Someday, he thought idly, he would introduce Ranma to that business as well.

“You’ll be back. You know how it feels now. Its inevitable. It may be next week, or it may be next month. But you’ll want to experience it again. You’ll crave experiencing it again. And then it’ll just be the two of us again. Me... and Hanako.”

Ryoga Hibiki smiled. Everything was coming together just as he’d hoped. All he had to do now was wait, wait until the inevitable yearnings surfaced again. Then he’d have her, again. Then he’d be able to teach her, again. Teach her... what she really, really, deep down wanted to learn. Even if she was unwilling right then to admit it. She’d learn, because her whole body wanted to be taught. He could tell.

Ropes. He should practice his knot tying skills, he decided.

They were about to become very, very handy.


End file.
